


Don’t Whump With My Heart

by DelilahMcMuffin



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Asphyxiation, Don’t Leave Me, Embrace, Isolation, M/M, Major Character Injury, Medical Trauma, Nightmares, One of these boys is gonna get hurt, POV Alternating, Recovery, Shaky Hands, Silence, Spoilers for Season 5 Episode 13 - The Hike, Trembling, Unconscious, Whump, Whumptober, Whumptober 2019, prompts, stay with me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2020-11-22 05:22:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 18,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20868863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DelilahMcMuffin/pseuds/DelilahMcMuffin
Summary: Patrick’s plans for  romantic hike/picnic go terribly, terribly wrong.Spoilers for 5.13: The Hike





	1. Unconscious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt for this chapter: Unconscious
> 
> Focusing on the distressed look on his (hopefully) soon-to-be fiancé’s face, Patrick softened. Maybe this hadn’t been the best idea after all. Maybe he should have just planned an ordinary picnic. That was far more David’s style and clearly what he had been expecting when Patrick had told him of his plans for today. Instead, Patrick was dragging him up a mountain and they’d spent nearly the entire time either arguing or in stony silence, both of them miserable.

Why had he ever thought this would be a good idea?

Patrick stomped up the path, using the switch he’d pulled off an obliging tree at the bottom of the trail to swipe irritably at the overhanging foliage. He could hear David behind him, muttering to himself, and he glanced over his shoulder, his face pinched into a scowl. 

“Shit... crap... so close... fucking middle of nowhere...” David was standing now - having come to a full on stop - in the middle of the trail, his cellphone clutched in his hand as he waived it fruitlessly in the air, searching for a signal. 

“David!” Patrick barked, stopping and turning to glower at his boyfriend. David’s head swivelled to look at Patrick and he sheepishly lowered his phone, swiftly burying it in the pocket of his oversized, drop-crotch, designer shorts. 

“There’s no signal,” he said by way of explanation. Patrick rolled his eyes and David snatched the phone out again, gesturing to it wildly. “There’s only...” he glanced down at the time displayed on the face of his phone, “4 minutes left on the auction!” he wailed. “That espresso machine was almost mine!”

”For fuck’s sake, David!” Patrick snapped, “Can you stop thinking about that goddamn espresso machine for five fucking minutes?”

His heart sank when David gaped back at him, looking for all the world as if he’d been physically slapped by Patrick’s uncharacteristically harsh words and tone. For some reason, David’s forlorn expression made Patrick even angrier and he let his tirade go on, unchecked. “I’m trying to do something nice for you - _for us_ \- and you’ve spent the entire time whining; I’m too cold, I’m too hot, there’s a bug on my shoe, this pack is too heavy... fuck!” He threw his arms in the air in a gesture of frustration. “If you don’t want to be here David just turn around and go back, okay? I’ll meet you at the car in a couple of hours.”

”But...”

”No, David! I came out today to go for a hike, so I’m going to hike. If you want, you can join me. If not...” he gestured down the hill, back the way they’d come. 

“But...”

”Ohmygod, what, David? _What?!?_”

”Nothing... it’s nothing...” 

Patrick turned on his heel and stalked angrily up the path, but not before he caught the dejected look on David’s usually animated face as he stood alone, looking uncomfortable and out of place amidst his woodland surroundings.

Letting out a breath, Patrick slowed his pace, listening for the sound of David’s footsteps behind him. He heard tentative, uncertain steps crunching through the dead leaves and dried sticks littering the path. He hazarded another quick glance over his shoulder.

David trudged miserably up the steep incline, rapidly losing ground to Patrick’s faster, more sure-footed pace. He looked like he was about to cry, his face flushed and his eyes shining.

Patrick felt like a complete and utter ass.

He’d not meant to get so annoyed with David. He was just so nervous. He’d spent so long planning the perfect day. He’d filled their packs with all of David’s favourites; that creamy herb and garlic goat cheese from Heather’s Warner’s farm, those artisanal parmesan puff pastry crackers from the family owned bakery in Elm Glen, a box of chocolate dipped strawberries from that boutique chocolate shop in Elm Valley. He’d even splurged on a bottle of honest-to-goodness Champagne, not to be confused with the undrinkable Zhampagne served at Cafe Tropical. 

Finally and most importantly, carefully tucked away from all the food, Patrick had packed the velvet covered box containing the rings he wanted to give to David; the rings that - he hoped - would one day make David his husband. 

Focusing on the distressed look on his (hopefully) soon-to-be fiancé’s face, Patrick softened. Maybe this hadn’t been the best idea after all. Maybe he should have just planned an ordinary picnic. That was far more David’s style and clearly what he had been expecting when Patrick had told him of his plans for today. Instead, Patrick was dragging him up a mountain and they’d spent nearly the entire time either arguing or in stony silence, both of them miserable.

Patrick scrubbed his hands roughly over his face. This was not how this was supposed to go. Somehow, In trying to find the most romantic way to ask David to marry him, he’d managed to kill the romance completely. 

He just... he really wanted David to see the special place he’d discovered. That secret outcropping that jutted out near the top of the mountain, with that endless view that was unsurpassed. That secret spot meant so much to Patrick and he hoped that after today it could be not just his secret spot, but theirs. 

He glanced at David once more. He was catching up, but he was winded and red-faced as he slogged up the hill. 

“I’m coming. I’m coming,” he panted, pausing to swipe the back of his hand across his sweaty forehead. 

“Not much farther,” Patrick said encouragingly, picking up his pace, his eyes still keeping an eye on David as he huffed and wheezed his way up the path. Maybe they should stop for a break... but they were so close. Just the last winding incline... they’d be there in 10 minutes tops. Maybe 15. Okay, 20 minutes. They’d be there in twenty minutes. 

“There’s this great viewpoint I want to show you up ahead,” Patrick called out, chuckling at David’s exhausted groan. “It’s so beautiful and private. We’ll have the whole place to ourselves.”

”Great,” David puffed morosely. “I’d hate to get eaten by bears in public. So much better when it’s private.”

“I told you. You’re gonna love it,” Patrick promised. He turned his head and smiled at David, who plastered a pained smile on his face. 

Still mesmerized by the sight of the man he loved to distraction actually here - only a few minutes away from the place where he was going to ask him to marry him - Patrick didn’t notice the tree root in his path. Didn’t notice it until his boot caught it and he stumbled, lurching forward, hands flailing in front of him, desperately grasping at flimsy branches but unable to find purchase. 

He let out a yelp as his forward momentum carried him stumbling forward, forward, and forward again until suddenly there was no more forward. There was only down. 

Down.

Down.

Down. 

And pain. There was so much pain. And dark. 

From somewhere in the darkness he heard a voice scream his name. And then he let the darkness take him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote and edited this on my phone (I never write on my phone) in about an hour and it shows.


	2. Isolation / Shaky Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two prompts for this chapter: Isolation and Shaky Hands
> 
> “Patrick?” David’s voice was louder now. The woods were silent around him. He stood still, straining his ears for any sign that he was not alone. In the middle of the woods. 
> 
> He was so going to get eaten by a bear today.

* * *

David bent double, hands on his knees, and panted. He looked up to see Patrick striding purposefully up the hill and shook his head. His legs hurt, his lungs were burning and he was sweating. _Sweating_! 

_What kind of sociopath does this for fun? _

Fun was something that was definitely not in the forecast for today. And he’d been so hopeful. When Patrick had casually mentioned yesterday that he wanted to take David for a romantic picnic, David’s mind had immediately gone to those picturesque picnics from his favourite films. He pictured them lounging on patchwork quilts in a clover-filled meadow, or on the pristine bank of a babbling brook, feeding one another, sneaking kisses between bites of handmade cheese and chunks of crusty bread...

Instead he was being bullied up Mount-fucking-Everest by his boyfriend, with nothing but the promise of cheese to keep him going. With the way his day was progressing, Patrick - who suddenly seemed not to know him _at all_ \- had probably packed fucking Cheez Wiz or (God forbid) spray cheese in these stupid, heavy backpacks. 

And to top it all off, he was sure he’d lost out on the espresso maker, thanks to Patrick’s little temper tantrum. The espresso maker Patrick had promised him he could buy if he found it for under $300. The espresso maker they had been talking about and saving for since Christmas. The espresso maker that Patrick knew he was bidding on this morning, and yet he had completely lost his mind when, with four minutes left in the auction, David had lost his signal. 

It was all very unfair. And very unlike Patrick. 

Glancing up, David could see that Patrick had finally stopped and was waiting for him at the top of a particularly steep incline. The scowl from earlier was thankfully missing from his face and he actually managed to smile as David lumbered, exhausted and graceless, toward him.

”I’m coming, I’m coming,” he wheezed.

“Not much further,” Patrick called back to him. 

“Thank fucking Christ,” David thought to himself. 

“There’s this great viewpoint I want to show you up ahead,” Patrick called out to him. And he laughed when David groaned in response. “It’s so beautiful and private. We’ll have the whole place to ourselves.”

”Great,” David grumbled breathlessly. “I’d hate to get eaten by bears in public. So much better when it’s private.” 

“I told you. You’re gonna love it,” Patrick said, and something in his voice made David believe him. He managed a smile at Patrick, who looked like he was in a much better mood now. That was something positive at least. 

David was hoping that Patrick would wait for him, give him a minute to collect himself before making him walk any further. But no such luck. 

Patrick shot him a grin and kept going, and David couldn’t help but admire him. Despite his crankiness today, Patrick loved the outdoors. And David loved that he wanted to share this with him. He hoped Patrick was prepared to make the most of it today, because David was never going to come back up here ever, ever again. Never. Ever. Not even if his life depended on it. 

The one (and so far, only) benefit of having Patrick scaling the mountain ahead of him was the magnificent view it afforded David of his boyfriend’s glorious ass. He watched that ass in those dashing hiking pants that clung in all the right places and his lips twitched up into a smirk. He was going to have fun making that ass pay for all the sweating and the panting and hurting he’d done today in the name of love. 

Distracted momentarily by thoughts of all the things he was going to do to Patrick once they got home, he didn’t see him fall. He heard a yelp, followed by the sound of something heavy crashing through the bushes and when his eyes finally focused in front of him, Patrick was gone. 

“P-Patrick?” David called out hesitantly. _Oh shit. What the fuck?_

“Patrick?” David’s voice was louder now. The woods were silent around him. He stood still, straining his ears for any sign that he was not alone. In the middle of the woods. 

He was so going to be eaten by a bear today.

David crept closer to where he had last seen Patrick. There was a path of crushed and bent branches leading off the edge of the path. With his heart thrumming loudly in his ears, David inched along the path of debris. The path ended suddenly in a sharp drop that bottomed out abruptly about 30 feet below. 

David’s heart plummeted to his feet and he felt sick to his stomach. Lying at the bottom of the cliff, looking nothing short of broken, was his boyfriend. 

“Patrick!!!” David screamed. “Oh fuck, Patrick!”

Without thinking, David scrambled over the edge of the cliff, his hands frantically grasping for purchase on the slick, moss-covered rock face. 

“_Shit shit shit shit shit_!” He muttered to himself when one hand slipped on a patch of something oozing and damp. David’s fingers found a new nook to hold and he tried very hard not to think about all how gross that had felt, how uncomfortable he was, and how much he wanted to go home. He hazarded a glance over his shoulder. Patrick still wasn’t moving and hadn’t made a sound. And _oh holy fuck_ that was a long way down. 

His body froze and he felt light headed. What if he fell? How would he help Patrick? They’d both end up dead at the bottom of a cliff, probably eaten by bears or wolves or whatever other man eating animals were lurking just outside his line of sight. 

Taking a shaky breath, David reminded himself that Patrick needed him. He had to get to Patrick. “Just get to Patrick. Patrick needs you,” he chanted to himself as he slowly and carefully continued his descent. “Just get to Patrick. Patrick needs you.”

When his feet hit solid ground, David dropped to his knees and touched a shaking hand to Patrick’s face. He was still warm, and leaning in close David could feel Patrick’s breath, faint but present, against his cheek. 

“Patrick? Honey?” David said, hoping his voice didn’t sound as tremulous as he felt. “Baby, I’m here. I’m here.” He gently ran his hand over Patrick’s hair, gasping when his hand came away sticky and red. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, this was written in a rush on my phone. I humbly submit this for your enjoyment. 
> 
> More to come!


	3. Stay With Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patrick would know what to do. If it was David lying in the bottom of a rocky pit with a bleeding head wound, Patrick wouldn’t panic. He was so dependable and calm. 
> 
> What would Patrick do first? Well, first of all, Patrick would stop crying. David swiped away the remnants of his tears with the sleeve of his sweater. Okay, step one. No more crying. _Check_.

David could feel his chest constricting, his stomach churning... he was on the verge of a panic attack. And he could tell by the way the edges of his vision had begun to blur and the ringing in his ears that it was going to be a bad one. 

He closed his eyes, scrunching up his face. Tears burned hot and fierce as they trickled down his cheeks. He had to remind himself to breathe. 

He tried taking long breaths; _In, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6_ and letting them _out, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6_. He Could not afford to panic right now. Patrick needed him. “You’ve got to help Patrick. Patrick needs you to help,” he breathed in and out.

Eventually, he calmed enough that the ringing in his ears ceased. He could almost breathe normally. It was enough for him to function. Barely. 

Patrick would know what to do. If it was David lying in the bottom of a rocky pit with a bleeding head wound, Patrick wouldn’t panic. He was so dependable and calm. 

What would Patrick do first? Well, first of all, Patrick would stop crying. David swiped away the remnants of his tears with the sleeve of his sweater. Okay, step one. No more crying. _Check_. 

_Step two: Make sure nothing was broken._

Besides the head wound, which was no longer gushing blood, David couldn’t see any other obvious injuries. He gently ran his hands along Patrick’s body, feeling under his back and along his sides and chest for any signs of damage; bloody gashes, things poking out, or things poking in. Thankfully there was nothing panic inducing that David could feel. Patrick had landed on his backpack, which seemed to have broken his fall, hopefully protecting his spine and internal organs. 

He moved on to Patrick’s arms and legs. His right leg felt a little wiggly where it shouldn’t, and David had to choke back the vomit that arose in his throat at the disgusting clicking noise it made when he tried to move it. Patrick’s other leg and his arms were fine. 

_Step three: Stop the bleeding._

While the flow of blood from the wound on Patrick’s head had slowed, it hadn’t stopped completely. He needed to fashion some kind of makeshift bandage in order to protect the wound and stop any further loss of blood. Shrugging the pack from his shoulders, David pulled open the main compartment and pawed through its contents. A few ice packs - those would come in handy - some cheese and crackers, and a bottle of... champagne? 

Holding the bottle up in front of him, David furrowed his brow. A bit fancy for a picnic - especially one at the top of a death-defying mountain. Why on earth would Patrick bring a bottle of champagne all the way out here? Even for the romantic picnic Patrick had promised, this was a bit excessive.

With an exasperated sigh, David tossed aside his backpack. No first aid kit. It was probably in Patrick’s pack... which was still under Patrick.

David didn’t know much about this type of thing, but he had seen enough episodes of _Chicago Fire_ to know that moving someone in Patrick’s condition was not a great idea and could result in further damage to the neck or spine. David sighed, wishing he’d paid more attention to the techniques used on the show, and less attention to Jesse Spencer’s ass. 

So he’d have to make do with what he had available to him, without getting at Patrick’s pack. David looked around him for something - anything - he could use as a makeshift bandage. There was Patrick’s sweater. But Patrick was still wearing it. And Patrick had lost some blood, and didn’t that mean that it would be harder for him to stay warm? David wasn’t sure but he figured that it was bound to get cold out here eventually and that Patrick was in no fit state to be in charge of his own body temperature. 

So David did the only thing he could do. Pulling his beautiful, soft, and very expensive sweater over his head, he closed his eyes, gritted his teeth in a pained grimace, and tore at the seem of one arm, pulling the sleeve clean off with a resounding rip. 

He dabbed carefully at Patrick’s wound, pleased to see that the blood flow had all but stopped now. He carefully slid his makeshift bandage under Patrick’s head, and secured it just above his forehead with as tight a knot as he dared to tie. He then laid the remnants of his sweater over Patrick’s chest, tucking it around him to preserve his body heat. Now all he had to worry about was...

_Step four: Get help_

Pulling out his phone, David was disappointed - but not surprised - to find they there was still no signal. Cranking his head to look up at the top of the cliff, he cupped his hands around his mouth and screamed as loud as he could, “Help! Please! Somebody! Anybody! Help us!”

His throat burning from the exertion, David held his breath and listened, his ears straining for any sign or sound that he’d been heard. 

Nothing. He tried again. 

“Help! Please! Someone! Call 9-1-1!”

David stood and listened intently. Again, there was no answering call. 

“Fuck,” David muttered. He rubbed at his arms - the sun was beginning to disappear behind the mountain and the temperature in their little hidden valley had begun to drop. David was freezing. And if he was freezing, Patrick would get cold too. Fast. And being stuck overnight on a mountain - in the cold, with a head wound - was not something he wanted for Patrick. 

He couldn’t use his phone to call for help. And there was no one up there to hear him scream. With a resigned sigh, David came to the unsettling and daunting conclusion that he would have to climb back out and hike down until he caught a signal. 

David stood with hands on his hips, staring up the seemingly insurmountable rock face he had somehow climbed down only a short while ago. He had been running on pure adrenaline and panic then. But now he’d have to climb back up and that thought was just... _horrifying_. But the thought of what would happen to Patrick if he didn’t make that climb was even worse. 

With a determined nod of his head, David crouched down beside Patrick. He pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead before he dug his hand into Patrick’s sweater pocket and pulled out his phone. He still had nearly a full charge while David’s battery was at 45%. It was nearly dark. He’d need to use the flashlight function soon, and he didn’t want to get back into signal range only to have his phone die. 

David rifled around in his backpack once more, looking for anything that might help him find his way back to Patrick once he found help.

There was the champagne bottle. And, he supposed, his pack could act as a marker of some kind. It wasn’t as if there was anything of importance left in it. He tucked the bottle back into the pack and shrugged his arms back through the straps. He grabbed the ice packs and carefully braced them around Patrick’s bad leg, knowing it wouldn’t do much good, but hoping it would be better than nothing. 

He put the crackers and cheese beside Patrick’s hand and bent to press one more lingering kiss to his forehead. 

“I love you so much, sweetheart,” he murmured against Patrick’s skin. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” David kissed a final few_ I love yous_ against Patrick’s face before he finally got to his feet. 

He blew out his cheeks and shook the nerves from his hands, using the last of the afternoon light to find finger and toe-holds in the rock face. He began to climb. 

It was hard work, and it was painful. His fingers hurt and his legs burned. The ascent took all of his concentration. So much so that he didn’t hear the whispered words from the prone figure he’d left behind on the rocky floor at the bottom of the cliff. 

_“David, please... stay with me...”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the long wait. Had a tough week, plus Canadian Thanksgiving was this weekend so I was busy with family, etc. 
> 
> I hope this one is whumpy enough to make up for it! 
> 
> Once again, this was written on my phone (at work - whoops!). I have no Beta. It’s barely edited.


	4. Embrace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every few minutes he would pause, shout for help, check his phone for signal, then move on. It was fully dark now and David was going off a hope and a prayer that he was headed in the right direction. He figured ‘down’ was as safe a bet as any, and that all he needed was to get within range of a cell tower.

* * *

David limped as quickly as he could down the hill. His load was lighter now as he’d left the champagne bottle and backpack as markers at forks in the path along the way, indicating which arm of the trail he’d come down. He didn’t remember there being so many intersections on the way up, but he shamefacedly recalled having his eyes focused more on his phone and his stupid eBay bid than on his surroundings. He was definitely regretting that now. 

He’d had to forfeit a shoe at the last intersection and his foot was both freezing and throbbing. He’d stepped on a wayward branch in the dark and it had pierced right through the soft flesh on the bottom of his foot. He’d paused only long enough to remove his sock and apply some hand sanitizer to the cut, wincing as it stung and burned. Then he wrapped his sock around his foot like a bandage, vowing to keep the flashlight on Patrick’s phone trained on the ground in front of him and to be more careful where he stepped. 

Every few minutes he would pause, shout for help, check his phone for signal, then move on. It was fully dark now and David was going off a hope and a prayer that he was headed in the right direction. He figured ‘down’ was as safe a bet as any, and that all he needed was to get within range of a cell tower.

He trudged along the path, his ears trained on the sounds of the woods at night, startling at any snap or rustle in the forest beyond the scope of the flashlight’s beam. His hands were shaking - whether from fear, cold or adrenaline he wasn’t sure. Possibly a combination of all three. 

Suddenly his phone vibrated in his hand, pinging loudly in the silence of the darkened forest, causing David to yelp and nearly jump out of his skin. He put his hand to his chest, feeling his heart thundering beneath his ribs and let out a nervous laugh. 

He glanced down at his phone. He had 21% battery life remaining and was infinitely grateful that he’d thought to bring Patrick’s phone too. 

His message indicator was blinking and he saw he’d missed 10 calls from his mother and had 7 texts from Stevie. Figuring it must be to do with some inane drama at the motel, David rolled his eyes and pulled Patrick’s phone from his pocket. 3 missed calls from Stevie. _Huh_.

Still startled by the unexpected bleating from his phone, it took David longer than he would’ve liked to admit to piece it together: If missed calls and messages were being delivered to his phone, he must be back in cell range! David nearly dropped both phones in his panic to make an outgoing call. Deciding to keep his for use as a flashlight for as long as possible, he dialed 9-1-1 on Patrick’s phone, pressing it to his ear and sighing with relief as he heard it ring. 

“9-1-1. What is your emergency?” The competent sounding voice on the other end of the line filled David with an overwhelming sense of relief. 

“H-hello, um... my name is David Rose,” he began, wincing at the burn in his throat as he spoke. He’d been screaming off and on for hours, hoping against hope that someone would hear him. “I need, um... I need search and rescue, I think.”

”Ok, David,” the voice said in his ear. “My name is Joe. Can you tell me what happened? Where are you?”

“Um... I’m in the woods. I-I don’t know where,” he said, suddenly realizing he had no idea the name of the park Patrick had brought him to. He tried to picture the signs they’d passed when driving in. Something about snakes? “Um... Snake Park?” he tried, feeling idiotic. “Point Snake?”

“Rattlesnake Point?” The voice called Joe asked patiently. “Does that sound familiar?”

”Yes! Yes!” David replied, nodding his head although he realized Joe couldn’t see him. “That sounds... I think that’s it.”

”Okay. Good, David. That’s good,” Joe said. “And what happened at Rattlesnake Point? Is someone hurt?”

”_Yes_! Yes, m-my boyfriend - P-Patrick - h-he fell and he’s hurt...” Picturing Patrick lying alone in the dark, David’s eyes brimmed with tears and he wiped them away angrily. He didn’t have time for crying right now. He had to get someone out here to help Patrick.

”Okay David. Okay,” Joe soothed. “We’re going to get someone out to you as soon as we can, okay?”

”Please hurry,” David pleaded into the phone. “Please. He’s hurt so badly.”

”I’ve got Search & Rescue on their way David. And I’m sending an ambulance too,” Joe assured him calmly. “Can you tell me what happened to Patrick? How did he get hurt?”

David’s voice shook with emotion as he recalled Patrick’s fall, seeing his body lying in terrifying stillness at the bottom of the cliff.

”Okay David,” Joe said. “It sounds like he took quite a fall.” There was a pause, then Joe continued. “Could you tell if he was breathing? Did you see any blood?”

”H-he was bleeding from his head,” David said quietly. “A-and his leg felt broken. But he... he was breathing when I left him.”

There was a short silence on the other end of the line. “Did you say his leg _felt_ broken?“ Joe asked. Without waiting for a response from David, he continued. “D-did you... David did you go down to him? Down the cliff?”

David nodded, then remembered he was on the phone and Joe couldn’t see him. “Yes.”

”And then you climbed back out? On your own? Without any climbing gear?”

“Yes.”

”David, are _you_ okay?” Joe asked incredulously. 

“Yes. Yes! I’m fine,” David snapped, impatient. “It’s _Patrick_! Patrick is hurt.”

”Okay. Okay, David,” Joe said. “That must have been scary. Patrick is lucky you were with him today.”

It didn’t feel very lucky. Not to David anyway. Patrick wouldn’t be down there in that hole if David hadn’t been such a pain in the ass all afternoon. Patrick had planned this beautiful day for them, and David had behaved like a petulant child, whining about the stupid espresso machine, moaning the entire way. If he’d been less of a dick, Patrick wouldn’t have gotten mad at him, he would’ve been paying attention and he wouldn’t have fallen. They would have gotten to the top of the mountain, enjoyed the view, eaten some cheese and been back at Patrick’s apartment by now. If it hadn’t been for David. 

He didn’t share these thoughts with Joe. But he knew he’d have to make it up to Patrick. When this was all over, David would have some serious apologizing to do. 

Joe assured him that help was on the way. That they had located his cell signal and knew where he was. That they were going to help him get Patrick off this Godforsaken rock. 

Joe stayed on the line with him until David heard the sound of sirens, faint and distant at first, but quickly getting louder and louder until he could hear the screech of brakes and the skid of tires on the asphalt. David turned in the direction of the sounds, lowering the flashlight and peering through the trees. He could see the red flashing lights of an ambulance and his legs nearly gave out beneath him in relief. 

“I see them,” he whispered into the phone. “I can see them.”

He heard voices and footsteps moving through the undergrowth. 

“David? David Rose?” a loud and familiar voice called out. “Elm Valley Search & Rescue!”

Tears streamed down David’s cheeks and his chest felt constricted with overwhelming emotions. He cleared his throat and waved the flashlight in the direction of the voices. “Here! I’m over here!” His voice was nearly done now, his throat raw and sore from screaming. 

“You’re in good hands now, David,” Joe said in his ear. “Good job. Search & Rescue will take care of you and Patrick now.”

”Thank you,” David whispered into the phone before he let it fall from his hand. He dropped to his knees, exhausted and spent. Suddenly lights were everywhere, voices coming from all directions. Hands were on him. He heard his name. He looked up to see Ronnie Lee standing in front of him, her hands on his shoulders, shaking him gently. She wore a warm looking jacket with _Elm Valley Search & Rescue_ emblazoned across the chest. 

She smiled down at him. “It’s okay David. Everything is going to be okay.”

David’s face crumpled and he collapsed into her arms, letting her enfold him in her strong, reassuring embrace as he sobbed. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this happened. 
> 
> I wasn’t planning on doing anymore for this one right away, but sometimes when inspiration hits, you just gotta roll with it. 
> 
> Written on my phone (at work. _Again_. I’m so going to get fired). No beta. Just little old me and all my spelling and grammar mistakes!


	5. Trembling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “For fuck’s sake,” Ronnie grumbled to herself as she heaved herself out of her chair. Leave it to Patrick to ruin her quiet night in. Somehow that thumb-faced man had talked his boyfriend up the mountain and the poor, sweet idiot with the strange taste in clothes had fallen and gotten himself hurt.

* * *

Lowering herself into her favourite armchair, Ronnie let out a contented sigh. Propping her feet up on the coffee table, she smiled as Karen handed her a glass of white wine. 

“Thanks Babe,” she said as her wife leaned down to press a kiss to the top of her head. “This is just what the doctor ordered after the day I’ve had.”

Karen settled herself into her own armchair and nodded. “That remodel out at the Weston’s farm still giving you grief?” she asked, taking a sip of her wine. 

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Ronnie said with a grin. She raised her glass to her lips and was about to take a long, much-needed swig when her emergency two- way radio crackled.

”Ronnie? You there?”

With a sigh, Ronnie set her glass down and reached for the radio handset. “I’m here Kevin.”

”Listen, I know you’re not on call tonight, but we’ve got an all-hands-on-deck situation going on right now out at Rattlesnake Point.”

Ronnie rolled her eyes. “Some tourist get lost on the way down the mountain again?”

”No,” Kevin’s voice crackled over the radio. “Some local guy. Fell pretty far up the trail. Hurt real bad. Dispatch says his boyfriend called it in.”

Ronnie sat up straight in her chair, already kicking off her slippers.

_Local guy. Boyfriend_.

“For fuck’s sake,” Ronnie grumbled to herself as she heaved herself out of her chair. Leave it to Patrick to ruin her quiet night in. Somehow that thumb-faced man had talked his boyfriend up the mountain and the poor, sweet idiot with the strange taste in clothes had fallen and gotten himself hurt. 

“Caller’s name happen to be Patrick Brewer by any chance?” she asked, grimacing an apology to Karen as she groped around in her closet for her SAR jacket and hiking boots. 

“No,” Kevin crackled. “Guy says his name is, um... David. But... Oh yeah. Says here that Patrick is the one who fell.”

Ronnie paused, confused. “He said his name was _David_?” she asked. “David Rose?”

”Yup.”

”You’re telling me that David Rose got himself down that mountain. On his own. In the dark?”

”Uh huh.”

”Well I’ll be damned,” Ronnie said as she zipped up her coat and jammed her hat on her head. “There’s more to that boy than I gave him credit.”

With a wave to Karen, Ronnie let herself out of the house and climbed into her truck, following Kevin’s directions to their muster spot. Screeching to a stop amidst the cacophony of vehicles and flashing lights, she grabbed her kit from the back of her truck in one hand, clipped her radio to her belt and hefted her heavy high-powered flashlight in the other hand. 

“We’ve got a location on our primary contact. He’s about 200 metres up the main path,” the squad captain was explaining as Ronnie approached the huddle of volunteer rescuers. “We’re not sure how much further up the mountain our secondary victim is, but based on the topography of the area and the description of where he fell that dispatch was able to get from the primary, I’d say he’s somewhere around here.” He pointed to a spot on the map laid out on the hood of his Jeep. “It’s a long way up. And then a tough climb down into a pretty steep ravine,” he continued. “We’re going to need climbing gear, a stretcher, a neck brace...”

Ronnie tuned out, her thoughts drifting concernedly to the two men they were out here to find. She and Patrick may not always have gotten along - the man was a huge pain in the ass, if Ronnie was being truthful - but she hated to think of him out there somewhere in that vast wilderness, alone and hurt. 

“Okay everyone. Grab your gear and let’s move out!” The captain was shouting. Heaving her pack onto her shoulders, Ronnie flicked on her flashlight and followed the troupe single file toward the trailhead leading into the woods. 

“David! David Rose! Call out if you can hear us!”

”Search & Rescue! Call out!”

Ronnie pointed her flashlight at the ground in front of her, stepping carefully to avoid the tangled roots along the path. Every once in a while she would stop and shine her light in a wide arc in front of her, peering into the woods, eyes peeled for any sign of movement.

And then she saw it. A pinpoint of light just up ahead, moving back and forth wildly, as if someone was waving a small flashlight. 

“I think I see him!” Ronnie said into her radio. She checked her GPS and gave her position. Waving her own high-powered flashlight in front of her, she called out; “David? David Rose? Elm Valley Search & Rescue!”

She was not sure at first if the figure ahead of her _was_ David Rose. It kind of looked like him. But the David Rose that she knew was always perfectly coiffed, impeccably attired and a little bit aloof. 

The man in front of her now was, to put it mildly, a mess. His hair was wild, he had scratches on his face from where branches must have clawed at his skin, his clothes were filthy and torn - a pair of mud-caked shorts and a thin black t-shirt that clung to his sweat-drenched body - and for some reason he had one bare foot wrapped in a filthy and tattered scrap of fabric. 

David dropped to his knees as she approached and fell, sobbing into Ronnie’s arms. Jesus, he was shaking like a leaf and his voice sounded like he’d swallowed a mouthful of broken glass. 

“Shhh... shhh...” Ronnie tried to soothe the distraught man clinging desperately to her. She wrapped an arm around his shoulders and he buried his face in the thick, downy layers of her jacket. With her other hand she awkwardly stroked his matted hair. “It’s okay, David. Everything is going to be okay.”

He was trying to say something, but between his tattered throat and chattering teeth, Ronnie couldn’t hear him. She bent to put her ear to his lips, his breath coming in rapid, shuddering gulps, as she strained to make out what he was saying. 

“P-Pa-P-Patrick...” he managed to rasp. “P-pl-p-please... h-h-help...”

Ronnie’s heart went out to David. Despite his own obvious pain and discomfort, his only thought in this moment was on saving his boyfriend. 

“I know, David,” Ronnie murmured. “They’re going to find him. They’re going to help him. Patrick is going to be fine.” As she gathered him in her arms and tried to help him to stand, Ronnie hoped like hell she wasn’t lying. She got David to his feet, but when he tried to walk he let out a cry of pain and dropped to his knees once more. “I’m gonna need some help over here!” Ronnie called out. 

Another volunteer rushed over and they bundled an emergency blanket around David’s shoulders. Then, hooking one of his arms around each of their necks, they began the slow descent down the last 200 metres of the trail. It became clear that David was in worse shape than Ronnie had initially surmised, his entire body shuddering with cold, with pain, with fear. 

His muttered chants of “Patrick... please, Ronnie... Patrick...” nearly broke Ronnie’s heart. She could only imagine what he was going through, and knew that if it was Karen up on that mountain, injured and alone, Ronnie wouldn’t be fairing any better. 

Together, they managed to get David to the waiting ambulance where the EMTs took over. As Ronnie turned to go, she felt a trembling hand on her arm. 

“Please... R-Ronnie...” he pleaded desperately. “S-st-stay...”

With a nod to her fellow volunteer, Ronnie climbed up into the ambulance and sat down on the bench, holding David’s ice-cold hand in hers. “Okay, David. I’ll stay.”

* * *

David finally fell into a restless doze. The EMTs had planned to take him to the hospital in Elmdale, but he’d become so agitated and distraught at the thought of leaving Patrick behind that they’d made the decision to stay, with the caveat that should his condition deteriorate further, they would leave immediately. 

They'd been able to bring his body temperature up to something closer to normal and had cleaned and dressed his injured foot. There were signs of an infection and they’d started an IV drip of antibiotics. The scratches on his face had been cleaned and he was cocooned in layers and layers of warm blankets. 

Every few minutes his eyes would pop open, wide and terrified, and he would struggle against his swaddling of blankets, crying out for Patrick with his broken voice. And every time Ronnie has the unenviable task of telling him that there was no news yet. They had still not found Patrick.

Finally, Ronnie’s radio crackled. “All teams, we have located the last marker. About 500 metres from where we think the victim fell. Tread carefully. Terrain is uneven and the drop is sudden and steep.”

“Roger that,” a chorus of tinny overlapping voices replied. 

Ronnie glanced at David. His dark lashes fluttered against his cheek; he was finally asleep. Gently extracting her hand from his, Ronnie climbed down from the ambulance, pulling her coat more tightly around her. It was goddamned freezing out here. 

She moved a few paces from the ambulance, not wanting the voices coming in over the radio to reach David’s ears, in the event that the news wasn’t good. He’d find out eventually, she knew. But she didn’t want him to find out like that. Not if the worst happened. She promised herself that if it came to it, she would break the news to him.

She hoped it wouldn’t come to that. 

Pacing back and forth, Ronnie stomped her feet in a fruitless attempt to warm her freezing legs. She was about to go back to the ambulance to warm up a bit when she heard it.

”...broken branches... get the light... body down there... not moving...”

Ronnie’s heart sank. She glanced at the sleeping form of David Rose. She really didn’t want to have to be the one to tell him. 

”... going down... slow and steady... long way to fall...”

More voices were coming now, talking over one another.

“...cold... blood... unresponsive...”

Ronnie closed her eyes. “Come on Brewer. Don’t you fucking do this. Don’t you dare,” she whispered through gritted teeth. Her eyes flew open when her radio crackled again.

”...a pulse!... breathing... Mr. Brewer? Patrick Brewer?... non-responsive to vocal stimuli...”

Ronnie brought her handset to her lips. “Is he conscious?” she asked. 

“...barely...”

”Gimme a second,” Ronnie said, sprinting back to the ambulance and leaping into the back. She grabbed David by the shoulders, earning a squawk of protest from one of the EMTs. He went silent when Ronnie graced him with one of her patented death-glares.

”David. David. Wake up!” She shook him gently at first, then more forcefully. “David they found him!”

Davids eyes fluttered open and he blinked dazedly up at Ronnie for a moment before her words took root in his brain. 

“Patrick?” he whispered.

Ronnie nodded, pressing her radio into his hand. “Say something to him,” she urged. She helped him to sit up and held the talk button down for him. 

“Patrick? Sweetheart?” he said, his voice so strained and shredded Ronnie wasn’t sure he would be heard over the miles and miles of forest separating them from Patrick and his rescuers. David seemed to come to the same conclusion. With a pained cough, he cleared his throat and spoke as loudly as he could, the strain of doing so evident on his face. “Patrick, Baby. I’m here. Please... please, Patrick...”

The air inside the ambulance was electric with anticipation as David, Ronnie and the EMTs held their collective breath waiting. Waiting. 

“...reaction... say... again...”

David’s hands trembled as he took the radio from Ronnie, placing his lips against the receiver. 

“Patrick, Baby?” he croaked. “Sweetheart can you hear me? I love you so much Patrick. Please... please Patrick.”

Silence descended once more. And then a voice, like a whisper on the wind, came over the radio...

”_David_...”

Ronnie wiped a tear from her eye. She never thought she’d be so happy to hear Patrick Brewer’s fucking voice. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all know the drill by now. Written on my phone. No beta. Forgive my mistakes. 
> 
> That being said, I hope you enjoy!


	6. Don’t Leave Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let’s get Patrick off that goddamn mountain, shall we?
> 
> Prompt: “Don't leave me”

There was pain. And a feeling of weightlessness. No, that wasn’t right. Patrick didn’t feel weightless. Although he did feel like he was floating. At least until his side bashed into something hard and unforgiving.

”Unf,” he grunted in pain.

”Jesus, Tim. I said gently,” a gruff voice sounded close by. 

“Sorry boss,” came another voice. Tim, Patrick supposed. 

“Okay, and here we go boys. Nice and slow,” came the gruff voice again. “Easy... easy does it...”

Okay so maybe he wasn’t floating. Floating seemed like it would involve far less jerking around and be more pleasurable. More relaxing. And nothing about this was relaxing.

“One more pull and we’re at the top,” the gruff voice said and Patrick felt himself hoisted upward, causing his stomach to churn. He groaned and felt a hand on his chest.

”You okay there, Patrick?” the gruff voice asked.

Patrick tried to shake his head but he couldn’t move; something hard and unyielding was tight around his neck and chin. He wanted to throw up, but found himself unable to roll onto his side.

”S-sick,” he managed to mumble before he felt the bile rising in his throat. 

“Get him on his side!” Gruff-voice commanded and he felt hands on him - all over him - and his whole body was lifted, stiff and straight and tethered to something hard and flat. Before he could fully contemplate what the hell was going on, he was pivoted so he was on his side, still attached firmly to the board or whatever it was, and just in time too. He heaved painfully, a thin trickle of vomit dribbling from his mouth. He tried to take in a deep breath before his stomach dry heaved a few more times. Then he was gently lowered onto his back once more.

Suddenly there were lights everywhere, footsteps coming from all directions. A crowd of people descended upon him, poking him, shining lights in his eyes, prodding his pulse points. 

He was so tired. And he hurt so badly. Why wouldn’t these people just leave him alone? And where was David? Why wasn’t David hovering somewhere nearby? Patrick was sure he’d heard his voice earlier...

”David,” he managed to croak. “I need... where’s David?”

”We’re taking you to him,” said the gruff voiced man from earlier. “Getcha down to him in no time, Patrick.”

Patrick heard a low, whining sound that he only later realized must have come from himself. He felt tears welling up in his eyes and his chest felt tight and hollow. “Please...”

He heard voices whispering, something about a walkie talkie, and suddenly a sharp crackle broke through the quiet of the cold night air.

”Patrick? Honey?”

Davids voice sounded different. Desperate. Scratchy. Distant. It was the most beautiful thing Patrick had ever heard. His lower lip began to tremble. “David, it hurts.”

”I know, baby. I know it does,” David’s voice soothed. 

“Where are you? I need you.”

”I-I’m here, baby. I’m waiting for you,” David said, and Patrick could hear the emotion in his voice. “They’re gonna bring you down to me, honey. I’ll be waiting for you, Okay?”

”Don’t leave me,” Patrick whispered. 

“I’m not going anywhere without you, sweetheart. I love you.”

“Love you,” Patrick whispered. 

“Okay, Patrick,” the gruff voice said, “We’re past the hardest part now. We’re going to carry you down the trail now.” Patrick felt a gentle hand on his shoulder and he squinted up at the silhouette hovering over him. “I’m not gonna lie; it’s gonna be bumpy and unpleasant. If you need us to stop just let us know, okay.”

”And David will be there? At the end?”

The silhouetted man nodded. “David will be there. He’s waiting for you.”

”Okay,” Patrick said, closing his eyes. He heard the sounds of feet again, the gruff-voiced man barking orders and suddenly he was being lifted. He opened his eyes. Four people - one at each corner of the board on which he lay - were carrying him, the rolling motion of their out-of-synch steps making his stomach begin to roil and churn again. He shut his eyes tightly and tried to breathe deeply in through his nose and out through his mouth. It helped a little, but the queasy feeling in his stomach returned and they had to halt their progress three times during their descent to let him dry heave until they could start moving again.   
  


Patrick’s eyes flickered open and closed. Each time they opened he stared up at the stars shimmering between the canopy of trees above. They were so beautiful. He wished David was with him. He wanted to show him how beautiful they were. He wanted to give David the stars.   
  


“Coming up on the trailhead in just a few minutes, Patrick,” someone said. “You hang in there, buddy.”

”Hang in... I’m hanging in...” Patrick muttered to himself.   
  


He canopy of trees above began to thin, and then abruptly they were gone, leaving nothing between Patrick and the stars.

Voices sounded all around him, red flashing lights, footfalls running. He was lowered onto a stretcher and felt relief as the wheels glided smoothly over the asphalt. And then he heard it, David’s voice.

”Is that him? Patrick? Patrick!!”

”No, David. You can’t...” Was that... it sounded like Ronnie. Why was Ronnie here? “Calm down. They’ll bring him to you.”

”David?” Patrick whimpered, relief flooding him as he was wheeled closer to the sound of David’s voice. He felt tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. “David?!?”  
  


And then he was there. David was there. Bloody and dirty, his eyes wild and frantic with panic and brimming with tears.

David let out a sob and leaned forward brushing his lips - dry and cracked and cold - against Patrick’s cheek, his forehead and finally his lips

“David,” Patrick sighed as a wave of relief and exhaustion rolled over him. “You’re here.”

“I’m here, baby. I’m here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh. I am the worst. I am so sorry for the enormous gap between chapters. Life just got a bit overwhelming (and honestly, very whumpy) for a while and I was not in the right head space to work on this story.
> 
> Thank you so much to those of you who were kind enough to check on me, and to gently prod me with reminders that I’d left Patrick stranded for long enough. 
> 
> As always, your comments make my world go around, so please feel free to let me know what you thought. And if you’re not already, come and say hi on Tumblr @delilah-mcmuffin
> 
> Until next time, 
> 
> D McM


	7. Asphyxiation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patrick wakes up in the hospital to some familiar faces. But where is David?
> 
> Prompt for this chapter is: Asphyxiation

Patrick’s head ached. 

Actually, ached was the wrong word. Patrick’s head felt like it had been split in two with an axe. He groaned, the vibrations of his own voice rattling painfully around in his skull. He winced, carefully cracking one eye open. 

White. A lot of white. Bright, blinding, eyeball piercing white. He closed his eye and groaned again, instantly wishing he hadn’t as his head throbbed painfully. 

He realized that he’d been concentrating so hard on the pain in his head, he hadn’t heard the voices. But they were everywhere now, soft and reverent, as if people were praying somewhere nearby. 

Was he in a church? 

”Shhh! Did you hear that?!? Patrick? Sweetheart? Oh, my baby boy!” a familiar voice whispered close by. Was that... it couldn’t be. What would his mother be doing here? Wherever here was. “Clint! Clint!! He’s waking up!”

Weird. His dad was here too, in this strange, quiet place that smelled like... antiseptic and bad coffee. Patrick’s stomach churned at the heady mix of smells and he wanted desperately to throw up, but found himself unable to move. 

Someone was touching him now. He felt gentle fingers stroking his cheek. He smelled the laundry detergent his mother always used. It almost cancelled out the other smells. Almost. 

“Mom?”

God, was that his voice? Jesus, he sounded awful. He must have a cold. Or the flu. Maybe a stomach bug. That would explain the nausea. And maybe the headache. 

“Oh my God, Patrick,” his mom’s voice was so close. Her voice was thick and wet, like she’d been crying. A warm hand closed over his; thick, calloused fingers enfolding his in their strong grip. 

“We’re here, son.” His father’s voice, deep and sonorous. 

“Dad?”

God. What was wrong with his voice?

“Shh... shhh sweetie. Don’t talk. Just rest.”

Patrick tried again to open his eyes, squeezing them shut again almost instantly, scrunching up his face and groaning.

“What is it, Patrick? What’s wrong?”

”Bright,” Patrick grumbled. 

“Honey, turn off the lights,” his mother’s voice sounded again. Patrick heard soft footfalls and the click of a switch being flicked.

“That better, son?” 

Patrick tentatively opened his eyes a third time. His surroundings were mercifully dimmer now. 

“W-where am I?” he asked, gazing dazedly you at his parents’ faces. “What are you guys doing here?”

He watched with rising horror as his mom’s eyes welled with tears. Had somebody died? Is that why everyone was so upset?

“We should call the doctor,” his dad said, giving Patrick’s hand another squeeze. “I’ll be right back.”

“Where’s David?” Patrick asked. David would tell him what was going on. He tried to move his head to look around him, expecting David’s face to appear at any moment at his side. Something niggled at the back of his mind. “David said he’d be there. Here. Somewhere.” Patrick squeezed his eyes shut. He was so confused. “He said he was waiting for me.”

His mom stroked his face again. “He did wait for you, sweetie,” she said, her voice once again thick with emotion. “He had to go - just for a little while. But he’ll be back as soon as he can, ok? I promise.”

His mom had never broken a promise to him. And neither had David. “Okay.”

“Patrick! Good to see you awake!” The booming voice of a tall black man in scrubs and a white lab coat made Patrick wince. “I’m Dr. Litman,” he said as he consulted a clipboard. He looked up and smiled at Patrick. “How’re you feeling?”

“Um... okay. I guess. Confused.”

Dr. Litman nodded. “Well that’s to be expected. You took a nasty fall and hit your head pretty hard.” He glanced back down at the clipboard. “Looks like your backpack broke your fall and absorbed most of the impact, but you have a pretty substantial contusion on the back of your head and a broken leg, a couple of cracked ribs...” Patrick’s mind was whirring. Fall? What fall? 

“What’s the last thing you remember, Patrick?” the doctor asked. 

“I...” Patrick closed his eyes and tried to remember. “Walking. I was walking. No, hiking. I was - we were - hiking.”

“Good. That’s good, Patrick. What else?”

  
“David and I were hiking. I took David on a hike.” Patrick’s eyes scanned around him once more. “Where’s David? He was there. He can tell you what happened.”

Dr. Litman gave him a tight smile. “Don’t you worry about David right now. He’s in good hands,” he said.

His words were probably meant to be reassuring, but they sent a chill down Patrick’s spine.  _ Whose _ hands was David in? What could possibly be so important that it was keeping him from Patrick’s side when apparently Patrick had fallen and had a concussion and broken bones and… and… now he was having trouble breathing. His chest felt tight and he felt light headed. 

“Patrick? Patrick, I need you to calm down,” Dr. Litman said, leaning forward to try and catch Patrick’s eye. “Come on. Deep breath in… there you go. And deep breath out… alright. And lets do it again…”

Patrick tried to match his breaths to the slow and steady pace set by the doctor. The tight feeling in his chest began to loosen and he was able to unclench his fists and settle back against his pillows.

“Good. That’s really good, Patrick,” Dr. Litman smiled. He made a quick notation on his chart and then moved down toward the foot of Patrick’s bed, and Patrick got his first real look at his leg. Encased in a cast from mid-thigh to ankle, his entire leg slightly elevated in a traction sling. The doctor must have caught the worries look on Patrick's face, as he nodded to his immobilized leg. “Looks worse than it is,” he said with a reassuring smile. “It’s a clean break and should heal up nicely in a few weeks.”

“A few weeks?” Patrick whispered, his heart sinking. “But the show…”

His parents and the doctor exchanged looks. 

“Don’t worry about the show for now, sweetie,” his mom said, gently patting his good leg. “Moira has decided to postpone the show indefinitely for now, what with you and Dav -“ She broke off suddenly at a look from his dad. 

An unexpected burst of anger surged up in Patrick. “What aren’t you telling me?” he demanded. “You… why won’t anyone tell me where David is? What is going on?!?”

“We just didn’t want to worry you,” his mom said, her tone apologetic. 

“Well I’m worried now, so please just… where is he?”

His dad sat carefully on the edge of Patrick’s bed. “David is in surgery,” he said. “Nothing major, right doctor?” Patrick looked toward Dr. Litman, who nodded.

“He burst his vocal chords,” the doctor explained. “The hemorrhage caused bleeding and swelling, he was having trouble breathing. We usually don’t recommend surgery so soon after the trauma has been inflicted on the chords. Usually we try to let them heal on their own for a week or two, but in David’s case, they were so damaged that he ran a serious risk of asphyxiation.

“W-what?!? How? How did he… I don’t understand!”

“It’s a simple procedure,” the doctor assured them all, continuing on as if Patrick hadn’t spoken. “We’ll be keeping him - and you - in the hospital for a few days. He’ll be intubated for the first day or so, and he may not be able to talk for a while. There’s the possibility that he may need therapy to regain full use of his voice, but other than that he’ll be just fine.”

The doctor nodded at them, then hung Patrick’s chart on a hook at the foot of his bed and excused himself, leaving Patrick and his parents alone. And Patrick had so many questions. But he was suddenly very, very tired. He could feel his eyelids becoming oh so heavy, the shapes around the edges of his vision turning blurry. 

He felt his mom’s gentle touch on his cheek. “Rest, my sweet boy. David will be here when you wake up.”

“Mkay,” Patrick murmured before he finally let his eyes close. “Tell David… love him. So tired… I’ll wait here...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so happy that there are still people out there cheering for this story. You all just gave me goosebumps with your encouraging comments. You’re all just so lovely!
> 
> As always, this is probably bedevilled with grammatical errors and spelling mistakes.
> 
> So, we’re back to civilization, but not quite done with the Whump. 
> 
> Please come and say hi on Tumblr @delilah-mcmuffin
> 
> Until next time,
> 
> D McM


	8. Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ronnie is tasked with the job of returning David and Patrick’s tattered backpacks for them, and finds something interesting in one of them.

“Hey Ronnie!”

Ronnie looked up from her desk, peering over the top of her reading glasses at the approaching figure. 

“Hey Keith,” she said, taking off her glasses and setting them on her desk. “What brings you to my neck of the woods?”

Keith grimaced and held up two tattered backpacks before placing them on Ronnie’s desk. “Found these in the back of my truck when I was cleaning it out this afternoon,” he said, taking a seat across the desk from Ronnie. “They belong to those two guys we pulled off the mountain the other night.”

Ronnie pursed her lips and glanced at the backpacks. Then she stared at Keith, waiting. 

“Uh… chief said you knew them? Um, know them?” Keith said haltingly. “I thought maybe, uh… could you make sure they get them back?”

Ronnie kept up her steady gaze for just a moment longer before she sighed and nodded. “Fine.”

Keith smiled, relieved. “Great. Thanks.” He stood up as if to leave, but paused. “Any word on how they’re doing? Those two guys?”

Ronnie blew out a breath and shook her head. “As far as I know they’re both still in the hospital. David — the one that called it in — his mother is on council with me. She wasn’t in yesterday or today, so…”

Keith nodded, hands stuffed in his pockets. “I hope that other guy — the one that fell — I hope he knows what his buddy—“

“Boyfriend,” Ronnie interrupted. “David is his boyfriend.”

“Oh. Right,” Keith said, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Well I hope he knows what his boyfriend did for him. That’s… I was on that cliff, Ronnie. I was there when we pulled that guy out.” He shook his head in disbelief. “I mean, I’m an experienced climber and even I wouldn’t attempt going up or down that rock without my gear.”

Ronnie blinked, glanced down at the backpacks, her mind going back to two nights ago when she’d found David Rose trembling and nearly broken at the foot of the trail. She hadn’t been able to get out of him the details of what had happened, but it had obviously been no walk in the park. 

“And the bandage he MacGyvered out of his sweater probably saved the other guy’s life. Kept him from bleeding out.”

“Hmm,” Ronnie hummed thoughtfully. 

“So,” Keith said, getting to his feet, “You’ll get these bags back to their owners?”

“Yeah. No problem,” Ronnie replied. 

“Thanks Ronnie,” Keith said. “See you around, I guess.”

“Yup. See you, Keith.”

She waited until Keith had left before she examined the bags more closely. They were both practically ruined. The one David had been carrying was torn and filthy. The one Patrick had been wearing had its shoulder straps cut by the EMTs so they could remove it before securing him to the backboard. 

While the backpacks themselves might not be worth saving, there might be valuables inside that Patrick and David would like returned: car keys, wallets, and the like.

Ronnie unzipped the first pack - David’s pack - and found it empty of all but a few crumbs and some broken plastic wine glasses, the kind she’d seen in Rose Apothecary when they were giving out wine samples at their Open Mic Nights. Ronnie sighed and dropped the virtually empty pack to the floor, then she zipped open the second pack. Patrick’s pack. 

Inside she found a blanket, something that looked like it had once been a ziplock bag filled with strawberries but now looked more like a baggie filled with lumpy, mouldy jam. Tossing the spoiled fruit, Ronnie zipped open the outer pocket and extracted a long, thin velvet-covered box. It was dented and slightly misshapen, but still intact. Flipping it open she looked at the set of four wide gold bands still nestled safely inside. 

Her brow furrowed, Ronnie knew she’d seen something like these before. And when it hit her, it came like a freight train, knocking her off her feet and causing her to drop heavily into her seat. These were gold versions of David’s rings. Patrick was hoping to replace the silver rings David wore every day with these. 

Patrick had been about to ask David to marry him.

* * *

“Yeah, I’m looking for Patrick Brewer? Or David Rose.”

The young man at the reception desk glanced at his computer screen and tapped a few keys before he smiled up at Ronnie. “Room 405. Just down the hall.”

Ronnie nodded her thanks and picked up the lone backpack she had brought with her. Patrick’s backpack. She peered through the open doorway of room 405 and saw two beds on opposite sides of the room, a handful of mismatched chairs scattered around the room. Two people sat in chairs on opposite sides of one of the beds.

“Veronica!” Moira Rose said, getting to her feet from where she had been sitting vigil by David’s bedside. “How solicitous of you to call on David and sweet Patrick in their direst of hours.” 

“Yeah,” Ronnie replied, “just wanted to see how they were doing.” 

“Uh, we heard about what good care you took of David,” Johnny said, also getting to his feet and holding out his hand to Ronnie. She took it and shook it firmly. “Thank you, Ronnie. It, uh… it means a lot to know he wasn’t alone. That there was someone he knew looking out for him.”

Ronnie grunted to hide the tightening in her throat at Johnny’s gratitude. “It was nothing. Just doing my job,” she said brusquely. Seeing the wide eyed and solemn faces of the usually animated Roses, Ronnie demurred. “I didn’t do much. I just kept him company.”

“Well we appreciate it all the same,” Johnny said. 

“You’re welcome, Johnny.” Taking a step further into the room, Ronnie looked at the prone figure in the bed between Moira and Johnny. “How… how is he?”

Not good, by the looks of things. David’s usually olive-toned complexion was frighteningly pale, his hair lank and matted to his head, and a tube jutted out from the base of this throat, connected to a complicated looking apparatus that was currently making light wheezing noises at a steady pace. He looked small and pale and delicate.

“Oh, you know,” Johnny said, his voice shaking slightly as he gazed down at his son. “He’s uh… well, he needs a little help breathing for now while his throat heals from the surgery.” He glanced up at Ronnie with baleful eyes. “But the doctors are hopeful that he should be right as rain. Any… any day now.”

“Well,” Ronnie said, needing to cough and clear her throat again, “He did a brave, brave thing. I think he’s a lot stronger than we all give him credit.” She reached out and gave Johnny’s arm a comforting squeeze. “You’ll see. He’ll pull through.”

Leaving Johnny and Moira to tend to their son, Ronnie turned her attention to the other bed. Patrick lay with his eyes closed, dark circles colouring the skin under his eyes, a pristine white bandage wrapped tightly around his head and one leg braced in a traction sling.

Not wanting to disturb him, Ronnie bent to set his pack down on a nearby chair. As she was turning to leave, she heard a scratchy, tired-sounding voice. 

“Ronnie?”

“Hey, Patrick,” Ronnie said, turning to face him.

He frowned, then grimaced, reaching up to gently probe at the bandage on his head. 

“What… what’re you doing here?”

“I just came to see how you boys were doing,” Ronnie said, her voice filled with false levity. “Uh, and this—“ She gestured to the pack. “I came to bring this back to you.”

Patrick’s eyes went wide and looked from Ronnie to his pack, then back to Ronnie.

“How did you… why… where did you…”

“I was, uh… I was part of the Search & Rescue team,” Ronnie said. “Some of the other guys found out I knew you two and asked me to make sure you got it back.” She grabbed the pack and handed it to Patrick. “I threw out the food that had gone bad. And David’s pack was trashed.” Ronnie watched as Patrick’s face fell. “But I made sure the really  _ important _ things were still in there.”

Patrick glanced up at her before his attention was turned to the outer pocket of the pack. He dug inside and pulled out the velvet box with a relieved sigh. 

“It was so stupid,” he said, more to himself than to Ronnie. Quiet enough that the Roses couldn’t hear him. “Such a stupid plan.”

Ronnie sighed and pulled an empty chair up to Patrick’s bedside. “You wanna talk about it?” she asked. 

Patrick shook his head sadly. But spoke nonetheless. “I had it all planned out. It was gonna be perfect. Except…”

“Except that you forgot to factor in the fact that you were taking David Rose up a mountain?” Ronnie asked, hoping Patrick would hear the teasing lilt in her voice. He nodded his head. 

“Yeah.” He sniffled and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “I got so mad at him, Ronnie. So mad. He didn’t deserve that. And now… now he’s… he’s…” He gestured helplessly at the bed across the room where a machine was helping a David breathe.

Ronnie reached out and placed a tentative hand on Patrick’s forearm.

“He knows you love him, Patrick. Even if he was being a pain in the ass. Which, I imagine, is why you got mad at him.”

“Yeah.” Patrick replied miserably. 

“And he loves you too,” she said reassuringly, giving Patrick’s arm another squeeze. “He loves you a crazy amount. You don’t do what he did for someone you’re not head over heels for.”

Patrick frowned again. “What… what do you mean?”

Ronnie sat up straight. “Hasn’t anyone told you? About what David did?”

Patrick shook his head carefully, mindful of his head wound. “No.”

Ronnie sighed and glanced over at the inert form on the other bed, chest rising and falling with the gentle cadence of the machines around him.

And then Ronnie told Patrick. She quietly told him about the cliff David had climbed down and back up again - the cliff that even experienced climbers wouldn’t attempt without the appropriate gear. She told him about David wandering alone in the woods for hours, screaming for help. About the way he’d refused to be taken to the hospital - taken away from Patrick - until he was safely down the mountain too. 

Through it all, Patrick sat silently and listened, tears streaming down his cheeks, his gaze focused on David. 

When she was done, Ronnie sat back in her chair, waiting. Patrick scrubbed his hands over his eyes, sniffling loudly. 

Ronnie got to her feet and poured a glass of water from the pitcher by the sink and held it out to Patrick. He took it with a small, grateful smile and drank long and deep, emptying the glass before handing it back to Ronnie. 

Setting it aside on the small table beside his bed, Ronnie settled back in her chair. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Patrick nodded. “Yes. I… thank you. For telling me. I didn’t… I didn’t know.”

“You’re welcome,” Ronnie said, offering him a supportive smile of her own. “He’ll be alright.” She said. “He’s got a lot of fight in him. You’ll see.”

“Thank you, Ronnie. Really.” Patrick held up the velvet box. “I thought this was gone forever. I never thought I’d see it again.”

“They’re beautiful,” Ronnie said truthfully. “He’s going to love them. Just… maybe this time, keep it simple. Maybe do something at sea level, okay?”

Patrick chuckled and nodded. “For sure.”

“Alright,” Ronnie said, getting to her feet. “ I’m gonna go. Do you, uh… do you need anything? Has anyone called your family? Or…”

“No, yeah. My parents just went back to their hotel to freshen up. They’ll be back soon.”

“Okay. Well, if you need anything, you give me a call,” Ronnie said. “And tell Moira and Johnny the same. Anything David needs.”

“I will. Thanks again.”

With a final nod, Ronnie excused herself from the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had originally planned to work on this story a lot sooner. Real life decided to Whump me again and I just pushed all my fics to the back burner. 
> 
> I appreciate those of you who have been so kind as to make sure that I was okay. I’m better now - still a lot of things up in the air - but I felt the urge to write again. 
> 
> I’m not 100% on this chapter. I hope Ronnie seems in character. She’s the only one I could think of to have this conversation with Patrick.
> 
> Love to hear from you!


	9. Shackled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The only consolation was that Patrick had managed to convince the nurses to move his bed so at least he was beside David now. If he really stretched, he could graze his fingers over David’s arm. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do for now while he was stuck shackled to this Godforsaken bed.

“How’re you doing today, son?”

Patrick looked up at his father from where he was trying to insert a plastic spork into the top of his cast to get at the itch on his leg just above his knee.

“Fine,” he grumbled, tossing the spork aside. It wasn’t nearly long enough to scratch at the spot that had been driving him insane all morning. “My leg is itchy.”

“Sorry Kiddo, nothing I can do to help with that,” his dad chuckled. “But I did bring your laptop, as requested.”

Patrick let out a sigh of relief. If he had to sit here on this lumpy bed for days on end, at least he would be able to get some work done.

“Thanks Dad.”

“No problem,” his dad said, taking a seat at his bedside. “Any change with David?”

The two of them looked over at the other bed where David still lay motionless. He’d woken briefly two days ago, only to scrabble, panic-stricken, at the tube jutting out of the base of his throat. It had killed Patrick not to be able to go to him, to run a soothing hand through his hair and kiss away the fear in his eyes. But he was stuck in his bed, useless and immobile. The doctors had arrived shortly thereafter and, after some whispered discussion, decided to put David into a medically induced coma until he could breathe on his own again. They couldn’t risk him pulling out the tube and injuring himself further.

The only consolation was that Patrick had managed to convince the nurses to move his bed so at least he was beside David now. If he really stretched, he could graze his fingers over David’s arm. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do for now while he was stuck shackled to this Godforsaken bed.

“No,” Patrick replied sullenly. “No change.”

His dad let out a sigh and patted Patrick’s uninjured leg consolingly. “I’m sorry, son. I can’t imagine how hard this must be for you.”

Patrick just shook his head, unable to put into words the pain he felt in his chest every time he looked at David. His hair was flat and matted, dull and lifeless. His normally golden skin was pale and waxen, and his face was covered in a decidedly scraggly beard. Which… okay, Patrick had to admit that he actually really liked that part. He wondered if he’d be able to convince David to keep the beard, at least for a few days, because it was definitely doing something for him. David would insist on cleaning it up, keeping it neat and symmetrical, not patchy and uneven like it was now. Patrick had spent most of the last few sleepless nights imagining running his fingers over it, feeling it against his cheek, against his lips. Against other parts of his body. 

He realized his dad was staring at him and he blushed, hoping his train of thought hadn’t been too obvious. 

“Um, the doctor said that they’re going to try to wake him up today, if his throat looks healthy enough. So that’s… that’s good.”

“That’s really good, son!”

Patrick let out a deep breath. “I miss him, Dad,” he said softly. He swiped at the tears they had come unbidden to his eyes. “It’s stupid. He’s right there, but…”

His dad shook his head vehemently. “It’s not stupid at all, Patrick,” he said firmly. “He’s your partner. And while he may be right there physically, it’s not the same as having a conversation, being able to talk to him. Tell him you love him.”

“I love him so much, Dad. Like, so, so much.”

“I know you do.”

“I was gonna… um…” Patrick glanced hesitantly at his dad. “Can I show you something?”

“Sure.”

“Um, where’s Mom?”

“I’m here,” his mother’s voice chimed from the doorway where she held a take away tray with three cups. “Just swung by the cafeteria to get some coffee. Figured you could use a little pick-me-up.”

She smiled and bent to press a kiss to Patrick’s forehead, handing him a to-go cup filled with steaming hot coffee. Patrick returned her smile and took a grateful sip of the piping hot liquid.

“So you were gonna show us something?” Patrick’s dad reminded him.

“Oh, uh, yeah.” Patrick set down his cup and reached for the small drawer in the table beside his bed. “Um… so, I wanted to keep this a surprise until after… but I don’t know how long that will be. Because…” he gestured helplessly at David’s sleeping form. “But I… um, the reason I took David on that hike was…” He let out the breath he’s been holding and pulled the small velvet box from his drawer, handing it to his mother. 

She carefully pried it open and her eyes instantly filled with tears, her face alight with joy. She handed the box to her husband and then reached for Patrick’s hand. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” she whispered before handing the rings over to her husband to see. “They’re… he’s going to love them.”

“Are these what I think they are?” his dad asked, snapping the box closed and handing it back to Patrick. 

Patrick nodded. “I thought… I was taking him to my favourite spot on the mountain. It’s where I went to think and sort out my feelings when I first met him and I didn’t know how he felt, or how I could possibly ask someone like him to settle for someone like me.”

“_Patrick Clinton Brewer!_” His mother’s voice was sharp. “No one is _ settling _ for you,” she said. “David certainly doesn’t seem to feel like he’s settled for you. If the party he threw for your birthday was anything to go by. He loves you.” She harrumphed irritably and sat back in her chair, her arms crossed. “Hmph. _ Settled _.”

“I know that now,” Patrick said, trying hard not to smile at his mother’s reaction. “But at the time I didn’t. He was - is - just so dazzling. And I was just, well… me.” He looked over at where David was sleeping. “And the spot on that mountain was special to me. It’s where I decided that I couldn’t live with myself without at least letting David know how I felt, back before we even opened the store. And I wanted to take him up there with me to tell him… t-to tell him that I wanted to marry him.”

“You’ll get your chance, son,” his dad said, patting him gently on the shoulder. “David fought so hard to get you off that mountain. He’s not going to give up on you now. Just give him time. You’ll see.”

Patrick sighed. His mom smoothed a careful hand over his hair, mindful of the bump on the back of his head. 

“Have you tried talking to him?” she asked. Patrick frowned. “I know it sounds cliché, but there are studies that show it can help. The sound of a familiar voice.”

“What studies?”

His mom blushed. “I’ve been using the Google. Looking things up. You know I like to feel useful, Patrick.”

Patrick smiled fondly at his mother. “It’s just called Google, Mom,” he teased. “But… um, no. I haven’t. Not really. It feels… it feels weird. Like I’m just talking to myself.”

“It can’t hurt, son,” his dad encouraged. “Give it a try.”

Patrick opened his mouth, then closed it. “Like, right now?”

His mom patted his dad’s arm. “Why don’t you and I take a little walk around the garden outside? Give the boys a few minutes?”

“You just got here!” Patrick argued.

“And we’ll be back before you know it!” his mom replied cheerily, taking his face in her hands and pressing a kiss right between his furrowed eyebrows. “Talk to David,” she said, in the way she’d always said ‘clean your room’, or ‘don’t jump on the bed’ when he was a kid. She said it like she meant business and Patrick knew better than to argue with her.

His parents gave him a wave from the doorway, closing it behind them as they left. Patrick heaved a sigh. He wished he was closer. He wanted to hold David’s hand, touch his face. Something to make this a little easier. Less awkward. 

“Uh… I don’t know if there’s a right way to do this, David. So I guess I’ll just wing it and hope that you can hear me.” Patrick felt the sting of tears behind his eyes. “Um, I miss you. I miss you so much,” he began, his voice already wobbling with emotion. “I miss your voice. And your laugh. I had Alexis bring one of your sweaters for me. It… it smells like you.” Patrick grimaced. Was that creepy? Maybe he shouldn’t have said that last bit. What else could he say? “Your hair is doing some fun things, which I know you’ll hate. Alexis brought your toiletry stuff in so as soon as you wake up I can help you. O-or she can. One of us will help you.” God, he was so, so bad at this. “And I… I love you so much, David. So just… if you can hear me… please. I want to hold you. I need you to come back, David. Okay? Just… they’re gonna take that tube out today, and I just need you to come back to me.”

He watched David’s chest rise and fall with the rhythmic hiss of the machines. And he cried.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven’t forgotten about this story!!! Just had other things on the go, plus you know, gestures to the dumpster fire that is the world. 
> 
> Also, I was very in my feelings about The last few episodes and just couldn’t get my head in a very whumpy mindset.
> 
> Hopefully this makes up for the wait. More to come!!
> 
> As always, no beta. Positively bedevilled with mistakes. No one to blame but myself.


	10. Tear-Stained

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He felt a pressure on his arm and he jumped, reaching out beside him and feeling nothing. Jesus. He was losing his mind. “H-hello?” he asked with his broken voice. 
> 
> He felt it again, the gentle pressure on his arm. And then he heard it.
> 
> “I need you, David.”
> 
> Ohmygod. Patrick.

There was no end to the darkness. It was everywhere. Darkness and silence.

David took a tentative step forward, feeling his way along in front of him with the toe of his shoe. The last thing he wanted was to trip and fall and hurt himself, stumbling around in the pitch black.

He reached a hand out in front of him, searching for something - a wall, a tree, anything - and feeling nothing. Not even a breeze. A silence that was almost as oppressive as the darkness.

“Patrick?” he whispered. His voice came out funny. Rough and crackling. His throat hurt. He tried again. “Patrick?” Even more feeble than his first attempt.

How the fuck was he supposed to get out of wherever he was if he couldn’t call for help? 

He stood, nervously twisting his rings around in his right hand. He didn’t know what to do. If he went forward, was he going further from help? Which way even was forward? He strained his ears, hoping to hear something to lead him in the right direction.

He felt a pressure on his arm and he jumped, reaching out beside him and feeling nothing. Jesus. He was losing his mind. “H-hello?” he asked with his broken voice. 

He felt it again, the gentle pressure on his arm. And then he heard it.

“I need you, David.”

Ohmygod. Patrick.

“I’m here!” David tried, but his voice disappeared into the darkness the instant the words left his mouth. He could feel tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. “I don’t know where I am.”

“David? David?!? C-can you hear me?” Patrick's voice, so loud and clear. He was right there. David could feel him. “Is he… can he hear me?”

Who was Patrick talking to? “God, Patrick. Please!” David wanted to scream. He wanted to shout. But he couldn’t seem to make anything louder than a wheezing grunt come out of his mouth. 

“David?” Another voice, a female voice David didn’t recognize, was speaking to him now. “If you can hear me, squeeze my hand.”

David felt a small, warm hand in his. He tried to curl his fingers around the hand, tried to squeeze. But all he could manage to do was twitch his thumb. 

“Did he… is he…”. Patrick’s voice again. He sounded so sad. So desperate. 

“I think I felt something,” the female voice said. “David, can you open your eyes?”

What a stupid question. His eyes were open. Weren’t they? David concentrated, willed his eyelids to do something. Anything. He felt them flutter, the pervasive darkness shimmering momentarily with a stark white light. Then it was dark again.

“Oh my God! Did you see that?” Patrick’s voice sounded jubilant, so close David felt he could reach out and touch him.

“Patrick.”

“H-his mouth moved! And h-he almost opened his eyes!”

“It could be just a muscle spasm,” the female voice said calmly.

“Be patient, Patrick,” another voice said. One David knew well. Marcy Brewer. “I know you miss him, but you can’t rush these things.”

David felt a gentle hand on his head, familiar fingers sifting through his hair. 

“Patrick.”

“There! He did it again. His mouth moved!” Patrick said excitedly. Lips pressed to David’s forehead. Those fingers scratched lightly at his scalp. “Baby, please.” Another kiss, this time to his temple. “David, I need you.”

David was so tired. So disoriented. He could feel Patrick, hear his voice. He wanted to see him too. Mustering all of his strength, David concentrated on his eyes, focused all his energy on lifting his heavy lids. 

Bright white. Hazy shapes. Excited voices. Then one shape began to solidify into a face. The tear-stained face David longed for, lived for. _Patrick_. 

“Hi, baby,” Patrick smiled, tears streaming down his cheeks as he gently stroked David’s hair. “Hi, sweetheart.” Patrick brought David’s hand to his lips, kissing his fingers, nuzzling his face into David’s palm. “Oh my God. I thought I’d lost you, David. I love you so much.” He pressed David’s fingers to his lips, his breath warm and soothing to David’s shattered nerves. 

“Patrick.” David frowned. He was awake now, wasn’t he? So why did his voice still sound so rough? He tried to cough to clear it and winced at the intense jolt of pain that radiated through his entire body. He felt like he’d swallowed glass.

“Shhh. Shhh, baby. Don’t talk,” Patrick soothed, pressing gentle kisses to David’s palm, the inside of his wrist. He glanced up at someone standing on the other side of David’s bed. “Can you do something for him? For the pain?”

“David, I’m going to give you something that will help your throat feel better, okay?” said the female voice from David’s dream. David nodded, eyes still focused solely on Patrick. “It will make you sleepy, you might be out for a few hours.”

“No!” David wheezed, his face comforting in anguish at the pain in his throat. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Patrick murmured. “Can you give him something that won’t knock him out again?”

“It won’t be as effective,” the female voice said. “I can hold off for now, but David. Absolutely no talking. Doctor’s orders.”

David nodded his head. It hurt a bit, but it was nothing he couldn’t handle. Not when Patrick was looking at him like that. 

“Okay. I’ll check back in with you in about an hour,” the doctor said. “But you page the nursing station if the pain gets any worse. Understood?” 

David nodded again.

Two familiar faces appeared over Patrick’s shoulder. 

“Hello, sweet boy,” Marcy said with a teary smile. 

“We’ve missed you, David,” Clint said, sliding his arm around Marcy’s shoulders. “Marce, why don’t you and I see if there’s anything good in the cafeteria. Let these two have some time?”

Marcy nodded. “We’re so happy to see you, David. We’ll be back soon, okay?”

With another smile and a wave, they were gone. Patrick still held David’s hand tenderly in his. 

“David, I… I’m so sorry—“ Patrick began, but was cut off when David pressed a finger to Patrick’s lips. 

David shook his head. “Later,” he mouthed. “Just want to look at you.”

Patrick smiled, tears filling his eyes, trickling down his cheeks. David reached out to swipe them gently away.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! I hope you are all staying safe.
> 
> David is awake!


	11. Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexis tries to help. She doesn’t really help. 
> 
> David and Patrick finally get a few uninterrupted minutes together.

“Ohmygod, David! Will you stop squirming, please? You’re being such a baby!”

Patrick looked up from the book he was reading just in time to see David snatch his hand from his sister’s grasp, clutching it tenderly against his chest. It took him a moment to figure it out, why David’s fingers were sore. He’d scaled a cliff wall, twice—once down and then back up again—bare-handed. 

“It looks like you let a beaver chew on your fingernails, David. I’m just trying to help!”

Patrick watched as David picked up the small white board from his lap—the white board that Patrick’s parents had picked up for him so he could communicate while he was still not allowed to speak—and began scribbling. He recapped the pen and held the board up for his sister to read.

_ it fucking hurts _

Alexis’s back was to Patrick, but he could feel the eyeroll she must have given her brother. David glowered at her and began scribbling again. 

_ i’m in the hospital ur supposed 2 be nice 2 me _

“I am being nice to you David,” Alexis huffed, picking up the orange stick she had been using on David’s cuticles and reaching for his hand again. “I’m giving you a little spa day to make you feel better.” She bent her head over David’s hand, only to have him grimace and pull it away sharply. “Ugh! David! Could you be like, 50% less dramatic right now? I mean everybody is already fawning all over you. It’s not like you need the extra attention.”

Patrick watched as David’s face changed from annoyance to hurt at his sister’s words. With a sigh, he set his book aside and reached for the brakes on his wheelchair. 

“Okay, Alexis. I think that’s enough for today,” Patrick said, clumsily maneuvering himself from his spot by the window over to David’s bed. He’d only been granted permission to sit in the wheelchair this morning, and while he was very much enjoying his newfound freedom, his broken leg extended out in front of him made moving around the small space a bit tricky, and he’d already bumped his injured leg twice today.

“But he didn’t even let me finish one hand!”

“Well, maybe if David wants you to, you can come back and finish another day. But if it’s making David uncomfortable, then—“

The white board was unceremoniously shoved in Patrick and Alexis’s faces.

_don’t talk about me like I’m not here_

Patrick offered David an apologetic smile. “Sorry, sweetheart.”

Alexis just huffed and began packing up her supplies, zipping them neatly into her little travel case. “Fine. Whatever.” Patrick could see her blue eyes bright with unshed tears. He glanced up at David, nodding his head in Alexis’s direction. 

David shrugged his shoulders. “What?” he mouthed. Patrick gave him a significant look and nodded back at Alexis who was discretely wiping at her eyes. David sighed and used the side of his hand to wipe his whiteboard clear, then quickly wrote out another note, tapping the board with the pen to get Alexis’s attention.

_ what’s ur problem?_

“David!” Patrick frowned. But David’s note seemed to make Alexis brighten slightly. 

“You’re such a dick, David,” she replied, sniffling and dabbing at the corner of her eye. 

One corner of David’s mouth twitched. He nodded his head in agreement, which earned a soft giggle from his sister. Then he tapped his pen against the whiteboard again.

_ what’s ur problem?_

Alexis’s fingers danced across the top of her manicure case. “It’s just that, um, like...I was really worried about you,” she said softly. “And um, there was like, nothing I could do to help? And now that I _ can _ help, like...you don’t want me to.”

Patrick saw David’s eyes widen in surprise at his sister’s concern for him. He swiped his hand over the whiteboard and began to write again.

_i’m fine_

Alexis scoffed and swiped at her eyes, mindful of her mascara. “You are _ not _ fine, David,” she said pointedly. “First of all, you are in a hospital and you have tubes coming out of _ places _ that I don’t even want to think about.”

David grimaced and quickly wiped and scribbled on his board.

_ew _

Patrick couldn’t help but laugh at the disgusted looks on both of the Rose siblings’ faces. 

“And you were really sick, David!” Alexis went on, twisting her fingers together agitatedly. “Like, you had surgery, and then you wouldn’t wake up, and your little button was so upset, and—“

“Hey!” Patrick interjected, frowning at Alexis. “Don’t talk about _ me _ like _ I’m _not here!” He glanced over at David, who was staring back at him with those beautiful, soft eyes. Eyes he had missed terribly while David had been unconscious. “I mean...you’re not wrong…”

David reached out to gently stroke a finger down Patrick’s cheek, causing his face to flush. “I missed you,” Patrick murmured, carefully taking David’s hand in his and pressing a gentle kiss to each of his injured fingers. He kept his eyes fixed on the small, tender smile on David’s face. 

“Mkay, but we were talking about me, though,” Alexis interrupted, flapping a delicate hand in Patrick’s direction. 

“Sorry, Alexis,” Patrick replied, not sorry in the least. He turned David’s hand over and pressed a delicate kiss to his palm. 

“Patrick!” Alexis whined. “Stop being gross with my brother!”

Patrick smiled into David’s palm, pressing one last kiss to the spot before he grinned up at Alexis. “I don’t know,” he said in the same faux-serious voice he frequently used to rile up David. “I kind of feel like we deserve a little time to be gross together. David? Thoughts?”

David smirked indulgently back at him, then looked over to where his sister was pouting mutinously at the pair of them. He rolled his eyes and pulled his hand from Patrick’s grasp, writing something out on his whiteboard.

_tired. everything hurts. need sleep. come back 2morrow u can shave my beard. _

“Ooh!” Alexis squealed excitedly, clapping her hands together. “Oh, yay David! Yay!!”

Patrick couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed. Had hoped that David would keep the beard.

Alexis finished packing away her things, stuffing them into her overly large handbag. She got to her feet and turned, smiling at the two of them before she reached out and booped each of them on the nose.

“Love you,” she said, gracing them with a beatific smile. Patrick ducked his head. He could feel the blush creeping across his cheeks. 

“Thanks, Alexis. You too,” he said. He looked at David who rolled his eyes and quickly scrawled something on his board.

_ditto_

Alexis grinned at her brother. “See you tomorrow.”

Patrick watched as she flitted out of the doorway, the sound of her heels clacking growing faint as she retreated down the hall. Patrick waited until the sound faded completely before he returned his attention to David.

“Hi, baby,” he said, pressing another series of kisses to David’s fingers. David smiled tiredly back at him. “You’re really gonna get rid of the beard?”

David raised an eyebrow, his free hand moving to his face, fingers raking gently through the hair that had grown thick across his cheeks and jaw while he’d been unconscious. He tilted his head questioningly and Patrick smiled self-consciously. 

“I like it,” he said softly, and David’s eyes went soft. “I’ve never seen you with anything more than stubble.”

David moved his hand from his own beard, letting his fingers roam over the soft peach-fuzz that had grown on Patrick’s face during their time in the hospital. Patrick could see amusement dancing in David’s eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. I know,” Patrick chuckled. “It’s pretty pathetic, right?”

David tucked a smile into the corner of his mouth and shook his head, still stroking Patrick’s barely-bristled chin. He winked at Patrick, giving his sad attempt at a beard a little tug before reaching for his whiteboard.

_ i’ll keep mine if u keep yours_

Patrick laughed out loud. “You _ like _ this?”

David nodded and scribbled on his board again.

_ ur cute_

“David Rose,” Patrick teased, “Are you flirting with me?”

David nodded again, his smile widening. Patrick’s insides fluttered. There had been a few days when he had worried that he might never have this again. He suddenly needed to kiss David, to reassure himself that this was real, that David was okay. That _ they _ were okay.

It was awkward, neither of them particularly mobile with Patrick in his wheelchair and David still tethered to his hospital bed by all sorts of wires. But Patrick was determined to make it work, because he needed to kiss David, to be kissed _ by _ David. Like a man stumbling out of the desert into the comfort of an oasis, Patrick wanted to bathe and wallow in the feeling of David’s lips on his; wanted to fill up on the gentle touch of David’s mouth and the slick press of his tongue.

He felt David’s hand slip to the back of his neck, his fingers finding their familiar place at his nape. Something about David’s touch unleashed something in Patrick, and he swallowed back a sob.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *taps mic* 
> 
> Hello? Anybody still out there?
> 
> *crickets*
> 
> Ugh. Sorry folks. For those of you still interested in this story, I am working on it. I kind of shelved all my WIPs to work on my Reel Schitt’s Creek submissions and then it was hard to get my head back into this one.
> 
> Just a few more chapters to go. I will try not to take a million years between chapters. 
> 
> Thanks for hanging in there with me!


	12. Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hold your horses, Marcy,” Clint said, meandering over to where she stood. “You know it takes time for the boys to get settled after they’ve been out for tests. There’s no rush. They’ll still be there if we give them a few extra minutes.”
> 
> Marcy grunted her acquiescence. She knew Clint was right, but it didn’t make her any less impatient. “It’s just, Patrick said they might find out about going home today.“

“Clint, come _ on!” _ Marcy Brewer shifted impatiently from foot to foot while watching her husband slowly and methodically add creamer and two packets of sugar to his coffee. She clucked disapprovingly at him. He was supposed to be cutting back on his sugar intake. He gave her a measured look over his shoulder, then went back to stirring his coffee. He took a tentative sip, nodded his satisfaction, then tossed the wooden stir-stick in the receptacle and affixed a lid to his paper cup.

“Hold your horses, Marcy,” Clint said, meandering over to where she stood. “You know it takes time for the boys to get settled after they’ve been out for tests. There’s no rush. They’ll still be there if we give them a few extra minutes.”

Marcy grunted her acquiescence. She knew Clint was right, but it didn’t make her any less impatient. “It’s just, Patrick said they might find out about going home today. And I just—“

“I know, honey,” Clint said, wrapping a calming arm around her shoulders and placing a kiss to her temple. “I want to hear what the tests say too. Just give the boys a little time on their own to digest whatever the doctors have said before we go charging in there, okay?”

Against her better judgement, Marcy let Clint take her the long way around to the room Patrick shared with David. They nodded greetings to some of the staff, faces that had become familiar over the long days spent at the hospital. Finally, they stood outside Patrick and David’s room. The door was slightly ajar and Marcy could hear the faint sounds of a ballgame playing on the small television. She rapped her knuckles gently against the door frame and poked her head inside the room.

“Hello boys!” she said warmly.

Patrick sat in his wheelchair beside David’s bed, his attention focused on the TV. He turned to smile at her, putting a finger to his lips. He pointed at David. “He’s finally sleeping,” he said softly.

Marcy frowned in sympathy. While both of her boys were recovering physically, David had been having trouble sleeping lately, plagued by nightmares that caused him to wake both himself and Patrick with screams that strained his already broken voice. 

“Still having the nightmares?” Clint asked in a whisper, rounding David’s bed to place a supportive hand on Patrick’s shoulder. 

“Yeah.” Patrick scrubbed his hands tiredly over his face. “Last night was pretty bad. After his tests this morning, the doctor gave him something that will hopefully help him sleep.”

Marcy looked over at where David lay motionless in his bed. There were dark circles under his eyes. He looked so small and fragile, his usually olive-toned skin looking sallow and a little sickly. She reached out and ran her fingers gently through the wild curls that had replaced his carefully styled coif during his stay in the hospital. 

“Poor boy,” she murmured, sifting the strands of David’s hair through her fingers. She turned to Patrick, leaning down and kissing the top of his head. “My poor boys. How are you doing, sweetheart?”

Patrick shrugged. He reached for the remote, putting the game on mute. “I’m okay. Leg is healing and later today they’re going to trade out this thing—“ he gestured to the cast that covered his entire leg from foot to thigh, “—for something a little more flexible. Maybe a walking cast.”

Hope surged in Marcy’s chest. “Does that mean…”

A small smile curled at the edges of her son’s mouth. “It means that they’re optimistic I can go home in the next day or so.”

Tears filled Marcy’s eyes. She leaned down and pulled Patrick into a hug. “That’s wonderful news!”

“Yeah.” Patrick’s tone didn’t sound as excited as she thought he would. “And it’s looking good for David too.”

“Sweetheart? What’s wrong? Isn’t that good news?”

Patrick sighed. “I mean, yeah. It is. But...I live in a third floor walk-up. I’m just a little nervous, I guess. Going home sounds great, don’t get me wrong. I can’t wait to be able to sleep in our own bed again. But...I think I’m just realizing that life isn’t going to be a cake walk just because we’re out of the hospital, you know?”

Marcy honestly hadn’t even considered. She’d been so focused on seeing the boys get healthy, she hadn’t given it any thought. 

“Well, I’m sure we’ll think of something,” she said, her cheerful tone belying the worry that had suddenly surfaced. 

“Have you talked to Stevie?” Clint suggested. “Maybe she can hook you boys up with a room. Or...isn’t Alexis leaving soon on her trip with her boyfriend? Maybe you two could make due in David’s room for the time being.”

Patrick grimaced. “We talked about that,” he sighed. “But Alexis and Stevie have both done so much for us already, keeping the store going while we’ve been stuck here.” He frowned. “Besides, Alexis pushed back her trip another month. She didn’t want to go until she knew David was going to be okay. And she can’t stay at Ted’s now that he’s gone because his mom is staying there. And the motel is booked solid for the next month. So...”

Clint patted Patrick’s shoulder and gently ruffled his hair. “We’ll figure something out, kiddo. Don’t you worry.”

“Thanks, Dad.” Patrick looked unconvinced.

A soft moan caught the attention of all three Brewers, and they looked over at David’s bed. His brow was furrowed and he tossed his head back and forth on his pillow. A thin sheen of sweat glistened on his skin.

Patrick carefully maneuvered his wheelchair closer, reaching out to cup David’s cheek in his palm, speaking soft, comforting words.

“Shhh, baby. It’s okay. You’re okay.” David moaned again, his lips moving, but no sound came out. “Just sleep, baby. Everything is alright. Shhhh…”

Patrick smoothed his thumb carefully over the crease between David’s brows. He reached for his hand, giving his fingers a squeeze. Eventually, David seemed to calm, letting out a deep sigh and settling back against his pillows. When it appeared that Patrick was sure David was sleeping peacefully once more, he rested his elbows on the edge of David’s mattress and put his face in his hands.

Marcy set down her coffee cup and moved to stand behind her son, rubbing his shoulders. She frowned at the tension she could feel in his muscles. 

“Honey?”

“They’re so much worse at night because I can’t get to him. By the time I get myself out of my bed and hobble over to him, he’s screamed himself awake. Or the nurses get here first and he wakes up to a stranger staring down at him. It’s...it’s just really hard. I feel so useless.”

Marcy frowned. “You’re not useless, Patrick.” She pressed her thumbs into the base of his neck and his head sunk forward, giving her better access to work at the knot there. “He responded to you so quickly. You made him feel safe enough to fall back to sleep just now. You did that.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

They sat in silence as Marcy kneaded at his shoulders.

“He still won’t talk about his nightmares?” she asked softly.

Patrick shook his head, reaching back with one hand to take her hand in his, giving her fingers a squeeze.

“No.” Marcy could practically hear the wheels turning in her son’s mind. She knew that if she pressed, he would resist. So she waited him out. “I just...I mean I can piece things together, from what he says when he’s caught in the nightmare.”

Marcy and Clint shared a worried look. “If you’re not comfortable, it’s fine, son,” Clint assured Patrick. “But we’re here if you want to talk about it.”

Patrick smiled weakly at his parents. “I…” He trailed off and shook his head. Frustrated tears welled at the corners of his eyes. He brushed them aside with the back of his hand. “He calls for me, like he can’t find me,” he whispered, reaching out again for David’s hand. “Like he’s still stuck out there on that mountain searching for me. And he keeps apologizing, saying it’s his fault. And I’m worried...I think he blames himself for all of this—“ he gestured to their sterile surroundings, the beeping monitors and machines “—and I have no idea why. It was my fault we went up that mountain in the first place, it was me who wasn’t paying attention and tripped. How he could possibly think…” Patrick closed his eyes, a tear sliding down his cheek. 

Marcy wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him close, kissing his cheek. “Oh my sweet boy,” she murmured, holding him tighter when she felt his shoulders shudder with a sob. “Sometimes things like this happen and it’s no one’s fault.”

“Yeah, but—“

“I’m going to have to agree with your mother on this one, son,” Clint interjected gently. “What happened was terrible and traumatic. But neither of you caused this.” 

Patrick sniffled weekly and shook his head. “We fought. I was...God, I was such an ass to him.”

Marcy kissed the top of Patrick’s head. “Have you talked to David about any of this?”

“I mean, I want to. But it’s not fair for him right now. He can’t...it would just be me taking _ at _ him. It’s not like we can have a proper conversation with him trying to write out what he’s feeling on his whiteboard.” He sighed and rubbed his thumb lovingly over the back of David’s hand. “I just love him so much. And I hate that he’s suffering like this.”

“I’m sure he feels the same way about you, sweetheart,” Marcy said.

“Yeah. I know.”

A soft sigh emanated from David’s bed. He blinked his eyes open sleepily, looking blearily at the three faces smiling back at him.

“Hi,” he mouthed, rubbing tiredly at his eyes. He smiled at Patrick and pointed at his whiteboard, writing out a quick note.

_ Sorry _

_ Fell asleep _

Marcy leaned forward and gently patted his scruffy cheek. “Don’t you dare apologize, sweetie. You need your rest. I hope we didn’t bother you. We Brewers can be a noisy bunch when we get going.”

David almost managed a grin at that. He wiped his whiteboard clear and then scribbled again.

_ Have you met my family? _

Marcy smiled. “You haven’t seen us in an escape room, young man. Hold on to your judgement until then. We’ll show you what loud really sounds like.”

David ducked his head shyly, eyes on his board.

_ I’d like that _

Clint grinned and gently squeezed David’s shoulder. “We’ll make sure you boys are there the next time we have a Brewscape Room Extravaganza!”

David’s eyes went comically wide and he looked to Patrick, who chuckled and shook his head.

“He’s messing with you, babe,” he assured David. “It’s actually called the Biannual Brewer Breakout.”

Marcy bit her lip to hold back the laugh at David’s obvious struggle not to make a face. He scrawled something on his whiteboard and showed it to Patrick, careful not to let Marcy or Clint see. 

“It does _ not _sound like a contagious skin condition, David,” he laughed. He waggled his eyebrows playfully. “You haven't even heard our team name.”

David shook his head. 

_ I will give you $50 not to tell me _

“We’re called Brew’s Clues.”

David closed his eyes and let out a long suffering sigh. 

_ I’m questioning all my life choices _

“_Brew’s Clues, _ David. Because we’re the _ Brew_ers_. _ Get it?”

_ Please stop _

“Now that you’ll be joining us, you and I will be on team Brew’s Clues. And my mom and dad can finally have their own team. What was it you wanted to call your team, mom?”

Marcy grinned at David. “Show No Marcy.”

_ Oh God _

“What about my team name?” Clint joined in. “How come I don’t get to name the team?”

Marcy looked at her husband. “What would you even call it?”

Clint looked very smug. “The Clint Removers.”

Marcy snorted a laugh and looked over at the boys. Patrick was laughing and shaking his head. And David had the first truly genuine smile on his face that she’d seen in days. It made her heart warm to know that they had done that, lightened his heavy heart for a few minutes and given him something to smile about.

_ What did I ever do to deserve you people? _

Patrick smiled indulgently and brought David’s hand to his lips, kissing the backs of his fingers. “Must have been something really good, babe.”

David’s eyes went soft, and he reached out to gently take Patrick’s face in his palm.

_ Thank you _

Marcy and Clint settled in to chat and laugh with the boys for a little while longer, but it soon became clear that David was flagging, his eyes drooping and his head lolling back on his pillows until he jerked himself awake again.

“Sweetheart, you need to get your sleep,” Marcy insisted. She stood from her spot perched on the side of Patrick’s bed and leaned down to place a kiss on David’s forehead. He blushed and his mouth twisted to the side. “We’ll come see you boys again tomorrow. Let me know if you want us to bring anything from your place.”

Patrick nodded and thanked them for visiting. David smiled tiredly when Clint waved goodbye. By the time they had exchanged kisses and hugs with Patrick, David was already asleep.

They drove back to Schitt’s Creek and decided to stop for dinner at the café before heading back to Patrick’s apartment for the night. He’d insisted they stay there, as he worried about them spending too much on a hotel near the hospital when his apartment was sitting empty for the time being.

They found a booth in the back corner, nodding at a few faces that were beginning to look a little familiar. They talked quietly as they waited for their food. Marcy was still concerned about where the boys would stay when they were released from the hospital. She said so to Clint, who shrugged his shoulders, wiping his mouth with his napkin.

“I know they don’t want to put anyone out, but two steep flights of stairs is a lot for Patrick to manage on his own several times a day,” he agreed. “And it’s not like David is in any shape to haul him up the stairs.” He sighed. “We should talk to Johnny. He would want to help, I’m sure.”

Marcy nodded. “I suppose so. But didn’t Patrick say the motel is booked out weeks ahead of time? We can’t ask Johnny to kick out guests with existing reservations. He and Stevie have worked so hard to build up the motel’s reputation.”

Clint opened his mouth to reply, when a voice sounded from behind Marcy. She turned around to see a woman with wide, dark eyes and close cropped hair peering over the back of the booth.

“I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but I couldn’t help overhearing,” she said brusquely. “You’re Patrick’s parents, right?”

Marcy shared a look with Clint. “Oh, um...yes. That’s us.”

“I’m a friend of David’s,” she said, extending a hand. “And Patrick’s too. I guess,” the woman added somewhat reluctantly.

“Oh. It’s nice to meet you,” Marcy said somewhat uncertainly at the woman’s blunt manner. Apparently they weren't getting a name.

The woman grunted and came around to their booth, squeezing in next to Marcy without invitation or apology. “I was there helping bring those two off the mountain,” she said. And despite her prickly demeanour, Marcy instantly warmed to the woman. “Like I said, I heard you talking. And I’d like to help.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to kira and MJ for helping to crowdsource names for the Brewer’s escape room teams. 
> 
> I hope there are still folks out there reading this. If you are, please give me a little shout!

**Author's Note:**

> As always, your constructive feedback is appreciated! 
> 
> Until next time,  
D McM


End file.
